Rise of Ignitus
by invaderzero14
Summary: do you think you know ignitus? well maybe you do, but who was he before spyro found him? do you want to find out? do you? do you really? really? no? oh, I got it. well for those of you who said yes, I got the story just for you
1. Chapter 1

Rise of ignitus: chapter 1

In my later years of my long life, when spyro was trying to find who and what he was, and when I sacrificed myself to the burning fire, you though you knew me. But do you really know me? Do you really know who I am, do you wish to know? You knew me when I was at my best, but even then I wasn't perfect. I was never perfect, especially when I was had my share of mistakes and heroics, none of which were as important as Spyros of chores. There's not a thought in my mind that tells me in any way that I can use my heroics as a gateway toward forgiveness for my mistakes. No matter how swell that sounds, that's never was or will be a reality for me.

I think everyone finds life to be this precious beautiful thing. Which isn't true, death is. For a dragon, death is never bitter or cold, but for me it was unwanted. I never wanted to die; I just knew it was the right thing to do. You know when you learn someone you love has passed away, and you just don't want to believe it. That's how I felt before I died, I wanted to do so much more, say so much more. But I couldn't, I did only what I could in that moment. Was it enough, I don't know, I couldn't hope to know. I would've done so much more for spyro and cynder if given a second chance, but I can only except that all living things get only one chance at things like this. I am ignitus, and I am grounded by only my weaknesses, and limited only by my abilities.

We are all limited, and it hurts to see the weaker being harassed by the stronger, and the ones who act as if they have none of these limitations. I see it as a waste of time and effort, by then we already see the worst of you. I t reminds me of how I was treated. Doesn't mean in any way I was always kind, everyone has a bad side. If spyro knew my bad side, or most of my secrets, he would never show me the amount of respect he did. Or at least not in the same way.

Well, may we begin?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Mother/father/homeland

Both of my parents had the elemental power of fire. This was good for me because if one of them were gone, which was mostly my father, I always had someone to train and look after me. They taught me well; even when I was small I was talented. Some were jealous, most were proud, proud to have me as a member of the village. It made me proud to have the parents I did. My father was the leader of april springs/ our village. He was the most proud; he told me every day he was home that I would be a great hunter and leader.

In our village there were many jobs to be done. There was salesman, farming, hunting, and my favorite at the time, warrior. My father wanted me to be a hunter; I wanted to be a warrior. He would never let me of course; he is an ex-warrior. He would never let me see hear or do the things he did. I didn't like it but I respected and understood it. I was young, in human years I was 15, and still had time to figure out what I wanted to be and do in life. Well, I decided to ask my father plane out if he would allow me to be a warrior.

"Dad?"

"Yes son."

"Why am I bound to what you wish of my future? You say I'm free to make my own decisions. And you…

"Who said you couldn't make your own decisions?" he interrupted.

"I want to be a warrior, if I am free to make my own decisions you would respect this."

I was surprised that my father sat there silent for a while, and then he laughed. But what surprised me the most Is what he did next. He laughed, then looked at me with a smile.

"you are free to make your own decisions" he said.

There was a part of my heart that didn't believe him, but I was to surprised to pay any attention to it. I smiled real big and said…

"really dad?"

"yes, you can make your own choices, just not idiotic ones." He said sternly '

I knew that was coming, he always had something to say about my ideas. That and my mother was to protective, she had to know where I was every second of ever day. Whenever I mention war she says…

"Honey, you're too precious to wear battle armor. "

So, even after hearing my parents thought, it never shook my mindset. I had a dream of marching into battle that very night. I guess it only maid sense, a young boy seeing himself as a big strong adult. I suppose that's how all children would like to see themselves. Its funny to think about it now, but when I got a taste of what I believed to be heroic and brave, it was bitter and cold


End file.
